The Daimyo's New Manto
by Melpomene melancholica
Summary: Once upon a time, in a far away fief, there lived two bums who fused their heads together and hatched an evil plan... a plan against the great daimyo...Bwahaha... .


_Ramblings and Warnings_: I was searching for a certain fic notebook containing certain ideas I previously outlined for a fic. Being unable to find it in all the usual places, I had to search for it among the older notebooks stashed in one of the messier corners of my room. I still didn't find the notebook but I found a couple of fics I wrote last year. Okay, I thought. Why not post it? I mean… ^^; So here is one of them. The only defense I can offer this thing is that it was one hot boring summer last year I could very well have been delirious. -.-; And… I'll take it down next week or something. ^^V ~062602

**The Daimyo's New Manto**

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin is the property of Nobihiro Watsuki and others. I'm just borrowing it for a few pages of foolishness.

A long time ago, in a faraway land, there happened to live two bums who did nothing but join brawls, pick fights and borrow money. Err… Excuse that slight slip of tongue, please. There was only one bum in the person of Sagara Sanosuke. His friend, Tsukioka Tsunan wasn't that bad a fellow. He made great wood block prints the ladies go nuts about (and reportedly, also _shunga-e_, erotic prints. **Reportedly**…), and even planned to form a newspaper. All the gambling and drinking of Sano thwarted that dream, though. They were both in dire need of money.

"Oi!" said Sano one day. "Lemme borrow 200 yen, baka yarou."

"Why?" asked Tsunan, frowning.

"'Coz I ain't got 200 yen, baka yarou!"

"Well, I don't have a single yen on me either, baka. I paid for last night's sake bash with the boys in town, remember?"

"Oh, right." Sano shrugged. "Can't be helped."

"Baka yarou! Where are you going?"

"To find someone who can lend me money, of course."

"Fat chance, baka. No other idiot in this whole empire will let you borrow some money."

"Hmm… I'll just eat, I guess. All these searching is making me hungry."

"How to pay?"

"On my tab, of course. Then we can pay for it later when your next woodcut comes out. Right, old pal?" He slapped Tsunan on the back heartily.

"There goes the 'we' again," muttered the hapless fellow. 

"Yoshi! Wanna come?"

"Wait, baka!"

"Eh?"

"You know, we can't go on like this forever. I mean, I might decide to get married someday."

"No problem, baka. By then you'll have newspapers circulating throughout the country and you'll even be able to support me if I decide to get married, too." He winked. "You know, there's that foxy doctor-"

"No, baka yarou," Tsunan interrupted him crisply. "We need a steadier, more productive source of income so that I'll have money to start business."

Sano raised an eyebrow.

"Fine." Tsunan's shoulders slumped. "I haven't the slightest clue where to start."

"Oh? What we need something fast and we need it now. Later we can work on your little problem. You willing to listen?"

~~~

Now, in the capital lived a wholly different person, a person totally opposite of the roosterhead we encountered earlier. He was responsible, hardworking, intelligent, well-mannered (court etiquette- wise, meaning when he's in the emperor's court, which is never), well-endowed with looks, richly muscled and well, rich.

Hiko Seijouro was an excellent daimyo. The best, actually, as he said so himself. Other than his intimidating gaze, his contemptuous grin, his shrewdness, his seeming infallibility, his brutal frankness, and his pride the size of Mount Fuji, there's nothing you can complain about. Hmmm…

Well, there's his vanity, of course. The daimyo loved clothes. He had different clothes for every hour of the day: kimono, gi, hakama, yukata, manto…. Every piece of clothing in every material imaginable, anything that glorified the unmatched beauty of Hiko.

One day, two bad (hey, it said so on the shirt) men came to the palace. One was a tall and lanky fellow with spiky brown hair. The other was also a man, with long black hair that swept past his shoulders.

What do you know! (you do, don't you?) It's the bum and his friend artist-turned-to-bum!

"We are weavers, my Lord," said Tsunan respectfully.

"Right, we make very special cloth and we're making you a once-in-a-lifetime offer!" added Sano brashly. "You better buy already, pretty boy."

"Whose lifetime?" queried the daimyo with a sardonic arch of his perfect eyebrow.

There was an awkward silence.

"Er…" continued Tsunan. "We entreat your Lordship to take advantage of this unique opportunity. We have the skills to weave the best cloth in the land, and as our duty and overwhelming adoration of our Lord demands, we humbly approach you to offer our services."

"Nothing I haven't heard before," said Hiko. "Why should I hire you? What's so special about the cloth you weave?"

"Uh…" struggled Tsunan. "It has… special characteristics."

"You gotta do better than that, merchant."

"We are artists, Lord." Tsunan nodded stiffly.

"Ah, but less artful than most merchants. Well?"

"Um…eh…Ah…uhh… "

"You better make this audience worthwhile." The daimyo was stern. "I cancelled a war in the eastern border for this meeting." 

"Oh, our cloth can only be seen by wise and intelligent people," blurted out Sano in panic. "That's right. Anyone who can't see it must be stupid."

"Way to go," murmured Tsunan in despair. "Now he'll have that psycho police guy with his Aku Zoku San on our heels… or necks."

To there surprise, the daimyo permitted himself a thin enigmatic smile.

"Interesting," he said. "You may start today. Everything you need shall be provided for at once."

And so everything was as the king decreed.

~~~

One night, the adopted prince Himura Kenshin was preparing to go to bed. It was a romantic night, too. A little chilly- perfect for curling up under the covers- and the night sky was clear - the various autumn constellations visible for the dreamers. Unfortunately, fate had different plans.

Just as the Himuras were engaged in a torrid- um, were engaged, they were interrupted by the summons of the master.

"Shishou," groaned Kenshin. "Why do you have such bad timing?"

"What a slave driver," said Kaoru. "And he complains we don't have kids."

At any time of the day, even at the most unholy hour, the prince was at the king's disposal. Often times, Hiko had Kenshin awakened in the middle of the night to buy some sake from the city below. Baka deshi, do this. Baka deshi, do that. Personally, his title should be personal valet if anything.

Anyway, Kenshin blushed like a delicate high-born lady at his wife's comment and went out to see what the daimyo wanted. 

"Shishou, what is it this time?" he asked. "The Oniwabanshu are stationed at the Red Goat Yakuza lair. I've sent reinforcements for the eastern border skirmish, doubled the dungeon guards, had the pantry filled with your favorite food, had your favorite white and red manto ironed. Even you wouldn't be able to finish a whole cellar of wine in one night. Did I forget something?"

"Baka deshi," said Hiko. "Quit your yakking and listen to me. I want you to go see the weavers and give me a full progress report 500 hours tomorrow."

"Why me?" Kenshin scratched his head. "I mean, you always complained about sessha being a fashion dummy. Why not your designers?"

"You really are a baka deshi. Don't you know how those sycophants fight for my favor? I want unbiased opinion from a trained eye. Now do you have any problem with that or are you afraid of seeing proof you really are a baka deshi?"

"Fine, I'm going."

And so the adopted prince/ personal valet/ baka deshi went to see the weavers. Of course, he didn't see anything for there was nothing to see. Those two knaves were just swindling the king for some quick cash.

Kenshin was about to reprimand them and pull his psychology thing. He stopped though when he remembered his warm soft futon and his pretty little wife nestled in between the sheets and him out here in the cold drafty halls of the fortress. How jealous he was! (of the sheets or of Kaoru?)

If he said something, there's bound to be trouble. Possibly, those people were not working alone and that he'll have to chase off some hoodlums to the sea. Then there'd be those grueling investigations that'll keep him away for at least a fortnight. Not mention he'd have to work with that neurotic cop who was rumored to turn into a wolf every full moon. Besides, Hiko would probably gloat about it for the rest of his life.

"No way," he thought. He told the rogues they were doing a marvelous job and briskly went back to his own apartments.

By the time the daimyo finished reading Himura's report, the news of his new suit of clothes being made spread throughout the fief. The weavers asked for more materials and worked as hard as ever.

The next night, the king wanted somebody to look at his new clothes again. But unknown to them, another ear was bent on being filled by prehensile information - spy testing skills by trying the very private sitting room of the daimyo himself.

"I'll surely impress the leader now," thought the person happily.

Meanwhile…

"Shall I summon the Prince, sire?" asked the servant. 

"No," Hiko said. "I've decided to give him the nights off for a while. It'll increase my chances of being a 'grandfather'." He gave derisively twisted grin. "Send me the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu."

"Here! Here!" announced Makamichi Misao enthusiastically, totally forgetting her cover. "Send me, your Majesty!"

"Not the weasel girl!" snapped Hiko. "She won't be able to see a thing. I want the old Okashira. The Oniwabanshu can't always be trusted but at least I trust Shinomori's IQ, if not his taste in clothing." The daimyo sniffed distastefully. "The color of the trench coat against his natural pallor makes him look watered down."

And so the old Okashira Shinomori Aoshi was summoned and sent to the weavers. Aoshi, however, was occupied by something else pressing -something about Zen and why the leaves fall. Anyway, he asked Misao to go in his place. The girl couldn't resist her Aoshi-sama so she went to the workers, and like Himura previously, saw nothing.

"Oh no!" she gasped to herself. "I can't see a thing! That means… I'm stupid?! Grrrahh!! I can't allow this insult! I can't…"

But wait. She'll have to explain to Aoshi what her kunai would be doing on their dead bodies later. And then Aoshi would tell the king that he saw nothing. The daimyo would assume Aoshi's the stupid one. Normally, she'd mince anybody who as much as _thought_ a derogatory term about Aoshi but Hiko was larger, stronger, quicker and smarter than her. She had no such wish to be Kuzu Ryu Sen and killed without having closure on her conversations with her Aoshi-sama. And so, the daimyo received the report that the cloth would soon be finished.

Soon, the weavers reported that the special cloth was made. Now, they pretended to cut the cloth and sew the pieces together to make the king a new suit of clothes.

The next day, the weavers called the daimyo for the fitting.

"I thought you're making me a new manto?" the king complained with a displeased frown.

"Well, sir, we've taken the liberty of making a whole new gala attire for your Majesty," replied Tsunan.

"No extra charge," added Sano.

"So I'll have to wear my favorite manto?" asked Hiko disapprovingly. "It's a little too mundane for the occasion."

"No, sire," said Tsunan. "The manto, though fashionable and magnificent, would mar the intended design of the apparel. It's summer and this suit is especially designed to be cool and light. It is however cut to follow the contours of your Majesty's well-muscled body. Undergarments would defeat the purpose of this cut."

"Perfect. I'm sick of the traditional cylindrical cut and those bulks and bundles of cloth. So my fundoshi has to go?"

Sanosuke and Tsunan exchanged long suffering looks. 

"No, sir," assured Sano, almost in a tortured voice. "It doesn't."

"Oh." Hiko looked disappointed.

The king surveyed himself on the mirror thoughtfully. 

"My, my," he murmured to himself. "You are one sexy Hiten Mitsurugi Master." He flexed his muscles a few times in different positions. Then aloud he said, "This cloth is beautiful. It really brings out the best in perfect me. Carry on, gentlemen. The rewards shall be great."

And the tailors worked even faster.

Every year, a pageant was held in honor of the daimyo, showcasing the kingdom's fashion breakthroughs. A parade that will start off the festivities would be held in two days. As always, the highlight of that event was the daimyo and his new clothes.

By the end of the next day, the tailors announced the completion of their masterpiece. The whole court oohhed and aahed over it.

"It's beautiful," said Kenshin.

"It's perfect!" said Misao.

"…" said Aoshi.

Then the day of the parade came. The tailors helped the daimyo into his new garments. Hiko found everything satisfactory so he had the dressmakers paid amply and sent them off.

People from all over the fief, even all over the empire, poured into the capital's streets. They awaited eagerly the appearance of their great daimyo and the awesome suit so much had been said about. The part about stupid people not being unable to see it attracted them most. Especially the fans. And so when the king strutted all over town, everyone cheered wildly.

"Grah! What clothes!" gushed one. 

"Oh, he looks wonderful," said another.

"What needlework!" exclaimed adopted Princess Kaoru.

"Such workmanship!" praised Megumi, the much-respected doctor.

"I wonder how I could get six-packs like those," Okina, a regular dirty old man, wondered aloud.

"Hiko-sama!" squealed Okon and Omasu, inn girls.

Whether the king was happy or not, nothing about him showed it. The smug expression on his face was the only thing that betrayed what he thought about it all. Of course, Hiko was as vain as can be. He bathed on the attention and adoration his subjects showered over him.

Then suddenly, a little brown boy pointed at the king. It was Yahiko, Kaoru's page.

"What's the matter with you, busu-hime?!" he yelled at his mistress at the top of his voice. "There's no gold or silk or whatever on him. He's naked! You hear me? Butt naked!"

Kaoru pulled him to a ferocious headlock hastily. "Shut up, Yahiko-CHAN," she hissed on his ear furiously. "You'll get Kenshin in trouble."

Everybody gasped. Silence fell over the assembly. No one dared to laugh or make any movement. Everyone held in their breath, waiting for the daimyo's wrath. Before it came, the prince emerged, scuttling from amidst the rabble and into the clearing.

"It's alright, Kaoru-chan," he said, kneeling before his king. "Shishou, I lied to you when you asked me to report on your dressmakers' progress. I really couldn't see anything. Forgive me, sire."

Misao went in and bowed before Hiko as well. "I changed Aoshi-sama's report, too, sir," she claimed. "We couldn't see anything either."

Hiko merely raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, that only proves one thing: the two highest ranking officials of my government are mentally deficient."

Everyone let out their breath in a relieved whoosh. There's nothing wrong with seeing nothing. After all, if Aoshi was indeed stupid, the word just lost its meaning that day.

And so, the fans no longer feared being called morons. They ganged up and chased Hiko all over the place, despite the multitude of guards that thronged to block their paths. Hiko's lightning speed helped him elude his rabid admirers and he was soon safe inside his palace.

"Ha!" he said to himself. "Not a single person in this country can match the genius that is Hiko Seijouro."

He stared at himself on the mirror again.

"Oh no!" he said in horror. "There's a tear in the underarm seam! It must be damaged by the god-speed of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Now where are those tailors?"

But of course they're already gone! Loot and all…

Tsunan made a breakthrough in journalism with his feature article entitled, "Hiten Mitsurugi Master Turned Pornstar: the Vital Statistics." He abandoned his idea of newspapers and instead used their royal earnings as capital for a larger woodcut business (by the way, _shunga-e_ are illegal in that kingdom). 

Sanosuke resumed his normal life of drinking, gambling and fighting. He managed to pay all his bills with his share of money. And then he doubled his debts in less than a month.

The prince finally had kids- several,  to Hiko's satisfaction. But didn't stop the daimyo from sadistically making Kenshin's life miserable… in more than one aspect. 

Misao…… Misao, Misao… 

…

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End

Started: 8:40:34 042301

Finished: 13:02:30 042501

Disclaimers: RK is not my property. Just borrowing characters for a few pages of senseless rubbish. Likewise for the fairytale "The Emperor's New Clothes." And for anybody who had already written something like this…. Sorry. ;^^V I really didn't know. It's all for good fun…


End file.
